


Almost There

by dot_does_writing



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: Age Difference, Boss/Employee Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Romance, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, You gotta do what your muse tells you to do, i don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dot_does_writing/pseuds/dot_does_writing
Summary: “I can’t believe I’m actually about to say this,” you whisper with a small smile. (...) You feel her nails digging into your shorts. Your smile turns wicked. “But I am about to give you the best night of your life.”
Relationships: Jacqueline Carlyle & Jane Sloan, Jacqueline Carlyle/Jane Sloan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	Almost There

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again. Blame self-isolation for this filth. I had nothing to do with it. I'm just going to leave this here and see myself out. Enjoy!

You dry the last of your hair with a damp towel and hang it on the hook on your bathroom door. You look at yourself in the mirror and smile as you notice a small mark on the inside of your left arm. You roll your eyes and shake your head but can’t rid yourself of a silly smile splitting your face. Your feet softly carry you to your bedroom, your hands tangled in your wet hair. By the time you’re done, your hair is sitting in a small bun on top of your head and you are looking through your drawers for something comfortable to wear. You drag out old gym shorts that have seen better days. As you reach for your college sweatshirt, something catches your eye and you frown. You fish the item out from underneath the pile of your rarely worn pyjamas. Ryan’s hockey shirt. You smile fondly at it for a second. You put your sweatshirt on and lay the t-shirt gently on the bed. After you’re done folding it, you drop it on your armchair and make a mental note to message Ryan to pick it up when he has time.

You slowly pad across the living room, the smell of the stir fry you made earlier still lingers in the air. You look around the kitchen and try to locate your phone, but to no avail. Your eyebrows furrow, _when was the last time you used it?_ You pick up a kitchen towel you discarded after doing dishes, your phone silently laying underneath. You unlock it to check for any new messages. A few notifications from Kat and Sutton about how they are enjoying the night out. You’re sure if you read all the messages, you’d find your friends pleading you to change your mind and join them.

You sigh quietly and look at the clock hanging above the kitchen bar. Lazy smile adores your face and you wonder how your life has become so peaceful and so hectic at the same time. You lean on your elbows and scroll through a _New York Times_ article about the latest democratic debate and your mind subconsciously wanders.

It has been exactly two months since you had dinner with Jacqueline. It went better than you had ever imagined and left you giddy for days. But nothing important was said. No boundaries were set, the topic of _‘us’_ left opened. That was until a week or so later. In a packed elevator, Jacqueline stood close behind you. You could feel her take every breath. You suddenly cursed whoever decided to put Scarlet offices at the top floor, because surely no one would have been able to withstand this sweet torture for long. And then, just two floors before reaching the top, the cart emptied, leaving just two of you behind. And Jacqueline never moved and neither did you. As the lift started again, you gripped the handrail a bit too hard. A ring on your finger digging into your skin as Jacqueline broke the silence and asked you if you had any plans that night. Unsure how could you possibly _not_ make an idiot our of yourself, you just shook your head. And so, it went. The drinks and dinners. Soon after it was dinners and heated looks. Sometime, a month ago, on a Tuesday night, you had reached a breaking point and decided that _just_ dinners simply wouldn’t do anymore. You made it very clear. But your boldness had paid off many times that night. And a few more in the morning.

Your throat suddenly goes dry with a reminder of making Jacqueline moan for the first time. Surely, it didn’t get better than that? You shake your head quickly, trying to calm your heartbeat.

As you stand in your little kitchen, kettle gently shaking, you take shelter in a sense of calmness that washes over you. Life is okay now. You have friends you can always count on. You have a dream job that motivates you and fulfils you every day. And now you are also slowly learning to love someone, who is doing such a great job at making you feel invincible. Life is more than okay.

Your phone buzzes with yet another message. It’s Kat this time, asking once more for you to change your mind about tonight. But your mind is already made up. And you don’t explain yourself. As much as you love your friends dearly, this thing between you and Jacqueline. It’s still new and more than delicate.

You swore to yourself many nights ago that you won’t do anything to screw this relationship up, not this time. So, you both keep it quiet, because you both know there’s too much at stake. Your connection’s too new to make it a conversational topic for Scarlet staff or _Page Six_. You don’t mind, because you know you’re not going anywhere, and neither is she. You can take as long as you want. Enjoy her selfishly until the very last minute, before the innocence of the act washes off.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock. You shout ‘ _it’s open_ ’ before you can stop yourself. You cringe because surely you could move those few feet to pull the door open. But it’s done now, so you just pour boiled water into your favourite mug and fix your gaze on the tea bag. Soft clicking of heels whispers against your hardwood floor and you look up just in time to see Jacqueline appear at the end of your couch. Her impeccable outfit, a bit wrinkled now, few strands of blond hair falling around her face after many hours of holding in place. You smile despite promising yourself you would play it cool. Jacqueline matches your smile and drops her bag on the couch, quickly followed by her teal blazer. Her heavy sigh ripples through the air and you can’t help but worry.

“Long day?” you ask, without needing to know the answer.

Jacqueline makes her way towards the bar stool and sits down gracefully. Her eyes tired but kind. “You have no idea” she answers, slowly taking off her earrings.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, moving a bit to the left to reveal the food left on the pan. Jacqueline nods and you busy yourself with heating the dinner you left for her. By the time you’re finished, she’s already going through the emails on her phone, reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. You try your best not to swoon. _Honestly, how old are you? twelve_?

You slide the plate across the counter alongside a knife and fork. You grab the mug and walk around the island. You also know better not to disturb her when she’s working because if you do, she will then have to pick it up later, probably long into the night when she should be resting. You know she would choose you over the emails anyway, and that knowledge is sufficient enough to make you feel warm inside. So, you place the tea near the plate and you slowly remove yourself from her space. Selfishly, hoping it wouldn’t take too long.

Just as you’re about to turn, Jacqueline’s slender fingers wrap around your wrist to hold you in place. You turn around to notice how she’s still reading something on the phone. It’s so like her to multitask. You smile and wait a second more, then Jacqueline turns her head to face you. Her gaze slowly morphing from the tired and focused to gentle and soft. It makes your heart stop for a solid minute. She tugs on your arm and you stumble forward, her lips easily finding yours. You marvel at how remarkable it is to be so enchanted with a simple kiss. You rest your free hand on Jacqueline’s thigh and press your lips more firmly against hers, before pulling back altogether. Your eyes flutter open and you gaze back at her. _If you proposed now, would she say yes?_ You smile at the ridiculousness of your thoughts and you move yet again to make an exit and give her some peace.

“Thank you” Jacqueline says, surely meaning dinner and tea.

You smirk and drop her hand. “No, thank _you_.”

She playfully smacks your bottom and you snicker as you walk away. You drop down on the couch, put the tv on the lowest volume and grab your laptop to go through your work, one more time before submitting the draft in the morning. Soon after, soft glow of your laptop eliminates your face, a soft sound of cutlery hitting a plate reaches your ear and you smile in content. A notification shows up on your screen few moments later, an email from Jacqueline. You raise your eyebrow and quickly look at the woman. Her eyes still glued to the phone; she’s pushing food around her plate. Her stocking clad feet bouncing up and down, heels long forgotten. You move your gaze slowly back to the email. You download the attachment.

There is no denying, there are many perks to dating someone like Jacqueline Carlyle. There is an odd luxury of not having to use the subway, in favour of a comfortable town car. You also have very little trouble of being interested in long conversations you share because, unlike almost every time in the past, you are actually soaking every word like a sponge. There is the fact that Jacqueline is the editor-in-chief of the most influential magazine in New York City, which means she always has the first copy of anything Scarlet, that is on its way to general print. You also happen to be in her good graces as of late, which somehow translates to you being able to have a peak earlier than anyone else. It still baffles you as to why that is, Jacqueline explained one evening that she wanted to know what you thought of the copy. The reasoning as to why someone like Jacqueline Carlyle would care about what you have to say, is still a mystery to you. Nevertheless, you would be stupid to decline a chance. Reading Scarlet is still one of your favourite pastimes. You click on the attachment and quickly lose yourself in the digital pages of what would become print tomorrow.

Just when you finish reading the vertical on hardships of single parenthood, the other side of the couch dips. You look up and watch as Jacqueline makes herself comfortable. She sits down, one of her legs curled underneath her. She props her head on her hand, resting at the back of your couch and she stares at the tv without really looking. You give her two more seconds of peace, before you stretch your legs across, gently placing them on her lap. You watch carefully as Jacqueline smiles and runs her perfectly manicured nails up and down your bare calf. It really would do you some good to stop obsessing over her already, but your mind turns to mush the second she touches you. _Defeated once more._ Jacqueline turns her head towards you, her gaze lazy and tired.

“And?” She asks. You find it amusing how she knows you must be reading the articles. Always one step ahead. Her fingers never stopping the caress on your leg. You feel like floating.

“It’s really good, no surprise there.” You smirk, as you focus back on your laptop, flipping the digital page to find yourself looking at Sage’s new column. This time she decided to bust some myths about men’s sexual fantasies and how women are held to higher standard. Your eyes quickly scan through the eloquent sentences and you make a mental note to congratulate her tomorrow. Some of the points really speak to you. That is until you stumble upon commentary on how “men should get over their wet dreams about two women scissoring, as it’s all a lie manufactured by porn industries”. You frown a little and then snort. Your mind quickly wanders back to when you were sixteen. You and your friend Lucy, both drunk on wine coolers she stole from older boys at the camp that you were both stuck in. You distinctly remember the thrill, the feeling of scratchy blanket under your bare back. You think about Lucy’s green eyes and how the bed squeaked from her rocking her hips on top of you. You also, quite clearly, remember the orgasm she gave you. It was all very real, you reckon.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jacqueline’s voice. “Care to share with the class?”

You smile at her, the heat of your memories colouring your cheeks. “Do you think Sage is gay?” you ask.

Jacqueline looks past you for a second, as if she’s trying to make her mind up. “I honestly have no idea. Why the question?”

You turn the laptop to face her and give her enough time to read the title of the page. You know she already knows the article by heart. The editor looks up at you. “I think she made some good suggestions.”

“Oh, definitely. This is an amazing piece. I just find her opinion on… certain positions, questionable” you explain. Jacqueline looks at you, her eyebrow raised, and you know you will have to elaborate, because half explanations don’t work for her. “I just don’t see how you can know if something works unless you’ve tried it. So, how can she know if scissoring works, if she has never tried it?”

Jacqueline’s eyes open a little more, clearly the discussion stimulating enough to gift you with her unprecedented attention. “I do believe Sage doesn’t write about topics she doesn’t research.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Research? What research? Watching lesbian porn is hardly research.” You mutter and place your laptop on the coffee table. You push yourself off the arm of the couch and lean closer to Jacqueline. Your hand sneaks in between the crook of her neck and her bent arm and you grab the hairpin that’s keeping her hair in place. Blond hair falls around her face, bouncing freely right under Jacqueline’s jaw and you swoon. You have been waiting all night to do this and _damn_ , it was worth it. Jacqueline’s hand moves higher up your leg, just above your knee.

“You seem to know a lot more about this topic. Maybe I should have assigned it to you.” Jacqueline wonders out loud, a slight smirk adoring her face. You laugh.

“Maybe you should have,” you agree. “I’m pretty sure my outcome would have been a more positive one.” You wink just to make her smile. Few silent beats later, the elephant in the room is addressed, and your heartbeat picks up.

“Am I to assume you’re speaking out of experience?” Jacqueline asks and has the audacity to sound innocent. There is nothing innocent about the question, you both know. Yet you still can’t help but blush.

“Let’s be real, Jacqueline. You can’t tell me that you have never tried it before.”

You know she has slept with women in the past. You had covered that topic thoroughly one night. You remember because something, really similar to jealousy, was bubbling just underneath your skin when she was speaking about her previous lovers - female or not. You regarded yourself childish that night, pushing the feelings deep down to analyse later.

“Can’t say that I have, no.” Jacqueline admits honestly, and you are shocked. Deep down to your very core. Could it be that you actually have an upper hand? Your mouth hangs open for a quick second, before you remember not to look stupid. Your eyes meet hers and you try to figure out what she’s thinking without having to ask her. But then you get side-tracked, because you catch her licking her lips. Your eyes no longer listen to what your brain is telling them to do. Instead, your gaze travels lower. It stops on her lips, slightly parted and wet and your heart drops to your stomach. Soon your eyes wander way lower, following the line of bare neck. Her crisp white shirt, with just three buttons undone, reveals just enough cleavage for your mind to wonder. You imagine what would happen if you popped another one open. Then you realise you don’t really have to just wonder anymore; you can just simply find out.

In one swift move you straddle Jacqueline’s lap, her hands automatically finding their way to your waist. When your eyes meet again, all you can see is black. Jacqueline has a smile on her face like Christmas came early and it does wonders to your ego. But more importantly, you’re about to win, big time.

“I can’t believe I’m actually about to say this,” you whisper with a small smile. You run your finger along her jawline - from her ear to the middle of her chin. You move it upwards, just barely grazing her lower lip. Jacqueline’s mouth parts involuntarily and you can’t help but gasp quietly. You feel her nails digging into your shorts. Your smile turns wicked. “But I am about to give you the best night of your life.”

You swiftly stand up, already missing the touch of her hands on you. You keep holding her gaze and then you slowly turn and make your way towards the bedroom. As you reach the door, you turn around and Jacqueline is still glued on the spot, most likely trying to collect herself. But tonight, you decide, is when you’re going to play dirty. You have an ace up your sleeve and you plan on using it. You quickly rid yourself of your sweatshirt, cold air hitting your skin. You fold the garment in half and toss it into the air. You watch as the sweatshirt lands precisely where you want it to - right on the couch; right next to Jacqueline. You grin and make your way to the bedroom.

It takes approximately three seconds before Jacqueline appears and stops in the doorway. You sit at the edge of the bed, facing her. Your arms supporting your weight behind your back. Jacqueline’s gaze is slowly making its way up your body, stopping awfully long at your naked chest. Your eyes meet and it takes every fibre in your body to not moan at the look she is giving you. Never before were you able to tell how much a person desired you by looking at you. Yet Jacqueline could say it all.

She takes two steps towards you and you spread your legs apart. You know it’s a cheap move, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. Jacqueline lets out a quiet groan and you give yourself a mental pat on the back. You watch as she works on the buttons of her shirt, little by little revealing smooth skin underneath. The shirt hits the floor at the same time as Jacqueline’s knees hit the edge of the bed. She stands between your legs; her arms disappear behind her. Seconds later her black lacy bra falls on your lap, and you look up. _She is more than perfect._ Every inch of her body screams to be kissed and your head swims with possibilities. How did you ever get this lucky?

Her hands disappear in your hair, her nails grazing your scalp. You lean closer and place an open-mouthed kiss on her stomach. You can hear her suck her breath in, the grip in your hair tightens. You slowly run your hands up Jacqueline’s thighs till you reach bare skin. You reach behind her, where you know you’ll find a zipper. You pull it down without hesitation and soon the skirt meets the rest of her clothes on the ground.

Jacqueline pushes you back on the bed, crawling on top of you. Before you realise, her lips find yours. You hum quietly as her tongue finds its way inside your mouth. Jacqueline finds your hands and drags them above your head; your fingers intertwined. Her skilled mouth never leaves yours. Lust blossoms in the pit of your belly like a cherry tree in spring. Somebody’s moan rips through the air and you know you’re gone.

***

Surely, you should be satisfied by now. One hour and three orgasms later, you should feel like you’re done for the night. But your brain doesn’t control your body anymore. You come up for air just as Jacqueline’s back meets the mattress again. You smile at the sight before you. You wipe you lips on her inner thigh and place a soft kiss on her knee. Jacqueline trembles and you crawl up her body and stare at the face. Few strands of her hair stuck to her forehead, eyes shut, her mouth open slightly to let more air into her lungs. You are full of wonder at the sight. You cannot recall ever seeing anything more perfect.

Jacqueline’s eyes flutter open and your eyes meet. She sends you a megawatt smile, one that shows no other emotion but pure happiness. Her left hand finds your face and she uses her thumb to wipe your chin. She moves her hand away but before she can do anything else, your fingers wrap around her wrist. You hold her gaze as you move her arm towards your face again. You part your lips, her thumb disappearing in your mouth as you suck it clean. Jacqueline’s smile falls off. As if you enter a time machine, you’re both back to where you started.

Jacqueline’s other hand comes up behind your neck and she pulls you for a kiss. You barely have time to react before her tongue is in your mouth, never mind her finger that still lingers on your bottom lip. You ponder that if someone ever asked you about the sexiest thing you ever experienced, you would pick this moment right there.

Your arms give in under your weight. Your bodies now flush, you can feel her hips coming up, so you grind down and are rewarded with a chesty moan. Jacqueline’s hands find your back and she drags her nails all the way down to your ass, bringing you closer. This time it is your turn to voice pleasure, the groan escaping your mouth uninvited. The sound breaks your kiss, so you move your mouth towards her jaw. You run your tongue down her throat, your teeth grazing the soft skin as Jacqueline grows more and more restless.

“God, what are you doing to me?” her husky voice reaches your ear. You chuckle as you bite down on her collarbone. A caring part of you wants to offer her a drink to sooth her throat. Her voice clearly affected by the excessive breathing. But the selfish, irrational part of you wants to convince her that maybe you should give up food and drink altogether and just do this for the rest of your life. Sure, that would probably come sooner rather than later, but what a wonderful way to go that would be.

You move one of your legs and straddle Jacqueline’s right thigh. You push yourself up, your hair cascading around face, bun long gone. You look down at Jacqueline, her chest raising and falling rapidly. She watches you intently, her hungry eyes following every move you make. Your eyes roam all over her body. A thin layer of sweat covering her breasts, the reminder of your sloppy kisses still glistening on her neck. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve sworn you dreamt her. Your eyes meet again, and you notice her eyebrow is raised. You smirk, because you know she is challenging you. But she also knows that her nonchalance turns you on. The fire in your belly grows tenfold.

You slide your hand under her left knee and bend her leg upwards. You are so proud of yourself for keeping your cool because inside you’re a complete mess. You send her a sweet smile and then move forward. You keep your eyes locked on her face, not wanting to miss anything, as you lower yourself at the apex of her thighs. The second your centre meets hers it’s all over for you, because how can you possibly control yourself?

You watch as Jacqueline’s eyes widen a little as she looks down at your connected bodies. A mix between a surprised laugh and a grunt escapes her lungs and she covers her eyes with her hand. You grind your hips slowly at the beginning, trying to find the right rhythm. Jacqueline’s hand finds your hip, her fingers digging into your thigh to urge you to keep moving. After a few moments you find the right movement that hits just the right spot. You muffle your moans and listen for anything that would indicate Jacqueline is enjoying herself too. Soon enough you hear her breathing speed up.

“Oh, God. Jane” she half-moans, half-whispers and you know your on the right track. Your movements pick up. Your bed grunts disapprovingly at all the extra movement. You prop yourself above Jacqueline’s face, your arms on each side of her head, and you close your eyes. Surely feeling this good is ought to be illegal. You feel a slender hand cup your breast and squeeze tightly and you cannot hold your moans any longer. The litany of sounds comes spilling out of your mouth, your hot breath lingering somewhere on Jacqueline’s cheek. You then find her mouth and without asking for invitation, you bite down on her lower lip. You need something to ground yourself with, because you feel like you might float away. In response, Jacqueline moves her hips faster, her movements meeting yours.

It isn’t long before you’re there. You feel Jacqueline tense beneath you. Soon after you can hear her breathing stop for a split second, and then her guttural moan ricochets from the walls of your apartment and lands right in your ear. That’s enough to tip you over the edge as well. Seconds later the fire in your belly bursts and travels up and down every part of your body and escapes through your mouth.

Spent, you hide your face in the crook of a Jacqueline’s neck and you will your breathing back to normal. Few minutes later you roll off of her and onto your back. Your heart is still racing as you try to pull at the duvet to cover you both. You can feel wetness running down the back of your thighs. You tug harder and the fabric gives in. You pull it just above your hips and do the same for Jacqueline.

You turn your head towards her. She’s looking at the ceiling, her left palm resting on her heart. You smile tenderly and reach between you two to find her other hand. You squeeze it tightly. All the courage and boldness you had earlier suddenly disappears. What returns in exchange is anxiety. _Maybe you have overstepped? Maybe you shouldn’t have been this forward and adventurous. What if she didn’t like it?_

You scold yourself because you do know better than to assume. But the perfectionist in you is trying to find some reassurance and you can’t help but wonder.

“Are you okay?” You ask unsure.

Jacqueline’s head turns quickly to face you. Her eyes search your face before she gives you your favourite smile. Your heart flutters like a hummingbird.

“Give me two minutes, will you? After all, I just had the best night of my life.” She winks at you playfully and you snort because that is _such_ a Jacqueline thing to say. But you decide to play along.

“So, are you going to tell Sage she was wrong?” You wonder and your chest swells with pride when Jacqueline laughs wholeheartedly. She leans over you and pushes back few strands of rogue hair that is tickling your face. She moves closer and plants a soft kiss on your lips and it takes every inch of you not to self-combust. She strokes your face, her soft gaze almost lulling you to sleep.

“That was amazing” she whispers. A big smile almost splits your face in half. It feels like your heart just grew three sizes and is trying to escape through your ribcage. Your ego sings, because let’s be honest: it’s one thing to be just complimented, but a different thing entirely to be praised for giving Jacqueline Carlyle the best orgasm she’s ever had. _Possibly_. That’s how you’ll see it in your head anyway.

You wiggle your eyebrows playfully and she smacks your arm for being childish. Seconds later she’s back on her pillow, covers tucked over her arms, her eyes closed. Her hand never leaves yours.

You watch her for few moments, her breathing slowly evens. You turn the bedside lamp off and you think of all the times you were in love before. How none of it compared to what you are feeling right now, and you can barely call it ‘love’ yet. Although you suspect you’re almost there.

The past two months seem like a drug-induced bender rather than reality, and the insecure part of you still fears that the other shoe will drop soon. But then you remember the way she looked at you tonight; the way she looks at you every day and you find yourself not caring that much anymore. If there is one thing, you’re good at, it’s loving people.

You rest your eyes, no longer strong enough to fight sleep and you squeeze a hand, still intertwined with yours. It’s maybe not love yet, but you’re _definitely_ almost there.


End file.
